Highwayman
by LookingBeyondTheEmbers
Summary: A one-shot entailing the final night aboard the U.S.S Enterprise on its original five year mission. Only a few hours until she is retired, along with her faithful Captain. James T. Kirk hadn't thought it would be this hard. First Star Trek fanfic, all reviews welcome! Not intended as slash. Rated T because I'm paranoid.


_**A/N:**_ This is the first piece of Star Trek fanfiction I have ever written, so I apologize in advance. Just an idea that popped randomly into my head while studying. Funny how that works, isn't it? Anyway, this is based off TOS because I've seen most of the episodes, and wanted to try my hand at it. Not intended as slash. Let me know what you think!

Disclaimer: I definitely do not own Star Trek. All rights go to Gene Roddenberry. I also do not own the song Highwayman. That particular piece of musical genius is owned by The Highwaymen-Willie Nelson, Johnny Cash, Kris Kristofferson and Waylon Jennings. All errors are mine alone, and there are probably more than a few. I wrote most of this at around 3 am, so...yeah. Enjoy!

The lights were dim in the captain's quarters as James Kirk sat quietly at his desk. Despite the late hour and the fact that his shift had officially ended over two hours ago, Jim felt less like sleeping than ever before in his life.

 _Just tonight_ , he mused with a dull sense of shock and dismay _. Tonight is my last night as Captain of the Enterprise_. Although he had carefully kept his demeanor and expression normal on the Bridge, the very thought of losing his prized career and beloved ship was enough to make his heart beat uncomfortably fast in his chest.

He reached over and picked up the glass bottle on the desk's surface, distractedly studying the label. Vintage Saurian brandy, won from Scotty in a poker game on a long night down in the Engineering section. He poured more brandy into his glass and took a drink; the fourth he had downed since retiring to his quarters.

He knew he should have been checking the last minute reports on the ship, getting her ready for the very last docking the Enterprise— _his_ Enterprise—would ever perform. Barring that he could have been sleeping, checking on the final details of his crew, talking with Bones. He could have been doing anything besides drinking alone into the wee hours of the night.

However, Jim Kirk couldn't bring himself to do anything except think about the last five years and everything they had done. His heart blazed with a fierce love as he thought about all the adventures he and his loyal crew had gotten involved in throughout out the years. He still felt a thrill of pleasure and surprise when he visited a new planet, marveling at the opportunity though he had seen hundreds—thousands, even—throughout his five- year mission as Captain of a starship.

Kirk gazed at the shot glass reflectively, looking through the amber liquid in the bottom. All the lives they had touched, all the worlds they had seen that only poets could dream of. The best and worst of the entire universe had been open to him, waiting with infinite patience to be charted. That privilege would soon be gone with his command. Kirk felt a slow anger smoldering deep within him. He took another swallow of the bitter liquid and the fire's intensity increased.

It wasn't fair of the Federation, he thought bitterly. To show a human something so uniquely amazing as the universe, give them the chance to explore it as pioneers, then take it away. After seeing and doing things scattered throughout the universe, both unbelievably amazing and indescribably terrible, what could ever possibly compare?

The stuff of dreams and nightmares is to be found among the stars by Captains and by poets, Kirk mused. Perhaps we were only meant to catch a glimpse of the vastness, the very essence and binding of the universe.

Kirk sat quietly, making no attempt to control the growing anger he felt. Finally, he sighed. It wasn't the power he would miss. He didn't need the title of Command to feel powerful and to know that he was in charge. The prestige that came with the Captaincy was a double-edged blade, one that Jim had come to know all too well through the years. No, the things he would miss the most about being the Captain aboard the Enterprise were the small moments that made the journey worth every ounce of heartbreak and fear. The unfailing loyalty and respect of his crew, the well-practiced efficiency on the Bridge, the easy camaraderie he had with Spock and McCoy.

A starship captain is supposed to be unfailingly strong, immeasurably wise and unswervingly courageous in the face of the unknown. A captain is supposed to accept the end of his command with dignity and quiet pride, showing none of his true feelings. A captain is supposed to be fierce and unbreakable, someone to admire and hold in high regard. A starship captain should not be drinking alone, lamenting the loss of something inherently transient and irredeemable in the first place.

Jim miserably told himself all of these things, fingers tightening around the bottle until the knuckles showed white. It was 0230 hours; the Enterprise would be completing her final docking in less than four hours. The back of his hand rubbed roughly across his mouth. Jim Kirk had never needed a drink so badly as he did in that moment, yet he forced his fingers to relax their grip on the bottle's neck. He would be strong, he would be dignified, he would be a Captain his crew could be proud of.

Despite the late hour, he knew Bones would be awake, engaged in some task in Sickbay. He also knew that McCoy would gladly talk to him about the end of the mission, about their future plans. Hell, about anything Jim _needed_ to talk about. Something stopped him from seeking out his friend.

Somehow, he knew that this was something he needed to do for himself. As much as he knew Bones would sympathize with the problems he faced, Jim was reluctant to go to him. There were certain things about being Captain that isolated you from the other crew members, no matter how close those friends were. Command was exhilarating, wonderful beyond compare. And lonely beyond compare as well.

 _It's lonely at the top._

A slight frown creased Jim's forehead. Which old historical figure from Earth had said that? He supposed it didn't really matter. A humorless smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. Over two hundred years since someone had uttered that damning sentence, and it still rang with truth and relevancy. Kirk couldn't decide if it was sad or hilarious. Maybe both.

He uttered a short bark of laughter, then stood up, mind made up. He swayed slightly, the alcohol suddenly making its presence known. Jim shook his head briskly, trying to clear it. He hadn't expected the brandy to have such a strong effect on him. Leave it to Scotty to have something mixed in, making it especially strong and probably illegal.

Jim regained his balance and walked out of his quarters easily, making his way down the quiet hallway towards Engineering, suddenly hoping Scotty would be there. As he walked in, the shift rotation consisted of mostly ensigns that he didn't know well. However, he recognized a well-built man with dark hair that was frowning down at one of the consoles.

"Good evening, Captain. I mean, it's not evening anymore, but…" the man said somewhat uneasily, looking surprised to have his commanding officer in the Engineering Section so late. "Evening, Mick," Jim responded warmly, showing the officer that he needn't be so formal. "Is Scotty around?" he asked. Mick shrugged.

"I thought that he would have left when Alpha shift ended, but I think he said something about recalibrating the Life Support with the new coils we got on Starbase Five before he went to bed. That was about three hours ago," he said with a quick glance at the clock on the console.

"Thanks, Mickey," Jim said, already heading deeper into the ship to find the Chief Engineer. Mick stared after the Captain for a few moments, then shrugged again and went back to the console.

Kirk climbed deeper through the ship, methodically starting at the Warp Core which served as a center to the section and working his way back around to the coils. Finally, he found the engineer in the room that served as the housing unit for life support systems.

The room was full of hotly hissing steam, and Scotty was whacking things with the heavy wrench he carried, muttering to himself and talking to the Enterprise as if it were a living, breathing thing to be comforted. Jim knew better than to mention Scotty's habit, even jokingly.

For one, he believed that the Enterprise was—in many ways—something to be respected and held to standards above that of a normal machine. He knew his ship was a sensitive instrument that was capable of astounding things when treated well.

He also believed whole-heartedly that Scotty would throw the wrench at his head if he heard him say something even slightly reductive about the Enterprise.

"Scotty!" he yelled above the clamor. The Engineer turned, and pulled his goggles onto his forehead while squinting through the steam to see who had called.

"Captain!" he yelled above the hissing of the pipes. "It's a bit late for a visit. What're ye doin' here?"

Kirk motioned that Scott should follow him into the adjacent room, where they could talk without having to scream at each other.

"Working on the Life Support systems, Scotty?" Jim asked, amused.

"Oh, aye," the engineer said happily. "When the shift ended, I got an idea on how to improve the system, and started on it before I forgot. I adjusted the intake and output valves for Artificial Atmospheric Conditions, and I've run a diagnostic on the entire maintenance division. Efficiency is up 12 percent, and that was before I went into the Pipe Room to manually adjust the material flow."

"Alright, Mr. Scott," the captain said, grinning faintly at his Chief Engineer's antics. Despite the hour, he saw no sign of fatigue anywhere in his officer's body language or face. Scotty could get consumed by an idea and lose track of everything else, possessed by a strange strength. He knew that none of his senior officers or Chiefs slept a great deal, but Scotty could resist the need to sleep or eat to proportions that were downright inhuman when working on the Enterprise.

"What brings you here so late?" Scotty asked cheerfully, yet curiously. Kirk saw the Scotsman's eyes sharpen, and knew that Scotty was likely to see through any lie he said. However, he said nonchalantly, "I was just checking on the status of the ship, making sure no one was making any… _unauthorized_ actions on her," he said, putting slight emphasis on unauthorized to remind the Engineer that he shouldn't have been tinkering with the Enterprise without telling him, no matter how beneficial the change.

Scotty managed to look slightly repentant, and made to leave with a quiet, "Aye, sir."

"Scotty, it's fine," Jim reassured him, reaching out to touch his friend's shoulder. "You're _improving_ the Enterprise, for goodness' sake. Just…maybe don't enter the change into the ship's logs, since I didn't officially give the order. Starfleet will examine the record tapes closely," he said easily.

Scotty's face lit up in a smile that made him look like an overgrown first grader. "Aye, Captain," he said, then turned back to the hissing pipe room, whistling loudly above the din.

Jim shook his head, then left Engineering.

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He buzzed at the door of Spock's quarters, unsure of exactly of why he was there. He immediately heard a deep voice say, "Come." He entered the room, and saw his First Officer sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of his bed. He had obviously been meditating, and Kirk felt a slight twinge of guilt at having interrupted him.

"Captain," Spock said, starting to get up.

"No, no it's alright, Spock," he said, motioning that he should stay where he was.

Kirk lowered himself to the floor beside the Vulcan, feeling his muscles begin to relax.

"May I inquire as to the purpose of your presence at such a late hour, Captain?" Spock asked, unflappable as ever.

"It's Jim, Spock. We're off duty," Jim said patiently with the air of a teacher to a recalcitrant teacher.

"Jim," the Vulcan immediately amended.

"I…" The young Captain hesitated, on the verge of telling Spock how he felt, how very alone he was. Of talking about the last five years and all that it had meant to him, how much he valued Spock's advice and his friendship.

"…wanted to see if you'd finished with the final instrumentation readings for presentation back at Starfleet Headquarters tomorrow," Jim said, cursing his own cowardice.

Spock raised an eyebrow but said mildly, "I completed the final reports for the ship's instruments and the last planetary evaluation 3.7 hours previously. By which time, I surmised that you would be asleep in your quarters and that the logical course of action would be to present the documents tomorrow, prior to reaching Starfleet. Obviously, I was incorrect in my assumption," he said with an imperceptible frown.

Jim smiled, letting the First Officer's formal yet smooth speech patterns wash over him. He had become so accustomed to hearing the Vulcan that he looked forward to the oddly stilted way he had of evading even the most natural of conversations. He thought with a pang that this might well be one of the last times he heard that unique voice.

"That's…that's good, Spock," Kirk said lamely, not able to think of anything more constructive.

Spock, seemingly sensitive to the Captain's inner turmoil, said quietly, "There is nothing to be ashamed of if you are feeling reminiscent or sorrowful at the ending of your career aboard the Enterprise; indeed, it is quite human to express such emotions."

He was quiet for a few moments. "However, it is quite illogical to dwell upon past events and regret all that was. Furthermore, all things must inevitably end. To regret their passing indicates defeatism from the beginning of such endeavors in a most contradictory fashion," Spock said, tone matter-of-fact.

"Flawlessly logical, Spock," Jim said wryly, feeling a wan smile cross his face. He should have known better than to talk to a Vulcan about emotional issues.

"My time on the Enterprise has been…most illuminating," Spock said slowly. "I have seen many things that have furthered my personal development, and given me insight as to the rest of the universe and the beings therein. I am honored to have been your First Officer. Jim," he said, voice uncharacteristically soft on the last word.

Jim gaped slightly. That had been the closest to anything near emotional he had seen Spock get in a long time.

Spock, perhaps sensing this, did his patented almost-frown that would have been a deep scowl if he had been human.

"Now, if you'll excuse me," he said briskly. "I was meditating, and I should like to continue to do so for the next 3.1 hours, by which point we should reach the Starfleet Headquarters for final boarding." Spock closed his eyes and resumed his position. Kirk took that as his cue to leave.

Facing the door, knowing Spock could hear said, "Thank you, Spock. For everything." He walked out before he saw his First Officer's reaction.

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Dr. McCoy was slumped at his desk, head resting on his PADD which was currently displaying information on the final Sickbay inventory check. He was fast asleep, and didn't wake up when the doors whooshed open and Jim Kirk stepped in.

The Captain smirked slightly at the sight of Bones snoring slightly, and turned to leave. There was really no reason to wake him; he would let McCoy sleep. Unfortunately, the Saurian brandy had now started to affect him in earnest and he stumbled slightly. He tripped into the table to the left of the door, and managed to knock a glass beaker off the edge and onto the floor. It shattered spectacularly into a thousand pieces and McCoy bolted upright, eyes wide and heart beating rapidly from the sudden awakening.

He quickly looked around his room and saw Jim standing there with a surprised look on his face.

"Jesus, Jim," Bones muttered, running a shaking hand over his aching eyes. "If you wanted to talk, you should have buzzed over the intercom. You didn't have to give me a heart attack for me to wake up." He was too tired for his words to have any real anger behind them, though he thought perhaps there should have been.

"Sorry, Bones," Jim said, trying not to grin, because it was suddenly very funny to him. He snickered slightly, and McCoy's eyebrows shot up.

"What are you doing here, Jim?" he murmured, looking at his watch. "Do you realize what time it is? You should be asleep." He paused, getting a better look at his captain, swaying slightly where he stood.

"Are you drunk?" he asked sharply.

"No," Kirk returned resolutely. His claim was effectively invalidated a moment later when he had to use the table behind him to keep from falling over.

"Alright, Jim," McCoy sighed. "Come on. Time to go back to bed." Getting up, he slung Kirk's arm over his shoulder and steadied the man. Noting that his body temperature was slightly higher than it should have been, his frown deepened.

"Back? I haven't been to bed yet," Jim said, giggling.

McCoy sighed again. This was going to be fun.

Together, they walked slowly back to Jim's quarters, with Jim laughing quietly the whole time, although he seemed to sober up the closer they got to his room.

McCoy helped Jim onto the bed, and watched as Jim struggled to remove his right boot with uncooperative fingers. Rolling his eyes, Bones swatted away the Captain's hands and removed the other boot.

"Jim, you know you shouldn't have been drinking," McCoy said patronizingly. "Tomorrow is important, and you can't fly into Starfleet Headquarters hungover."

"I know. Saurian brandy is stronger than I thought," Jim said, strangely subdued.

McCoy's eyebrows shot up again. "Saurian brandy? How much did you drink?"

Jim shrugged in an offhand way. "Too much," he said morosely.

Bones sat down on the end of the bed, looking at his friend who fidgeted restlessly with the sheets.

"Jim, I know that tomorrow is going to be hard, but—"

"It's not even that, Bones," Jim said quickly, knowing what his friend was about to say. "I just wanted to see everything one last time, as it was….while it was still mine," he finished, head down.

"Jim. It will always be your Enterprise, just like we will always be your crew, no matter where we go or what we do after tomorrow," Bones said steadily, looking into his Captain's young face seriously.

"Everywhere we've been, everything you've done, has been a measure of your character. You've left things throughout the universe that are purely your actions and will continue to affect the history of the world long after we've all died. You are a great man, James Kirk, and you will be remembered as one of the finest Starfleet Captains in history."

Jim grinned up at the doctor through his sadness, and McCoy felt a weight around his heart loosen. "Thanks, Bones," he said.

"No problem," McCoy said, smiling back. "Now go to bed," he said sternly, falling back into his well-practiced role of grumpy physician. "If you fall asleep right this second, you'll have almost two hours of sleep," he said, voice sounding a little smug, if truth be told.

Jim rolled his eyes. "Before you leave, could you put the memory tape on top of the stack into the computer, please? I want to listen to it," he said, settling back onto the bed.

McCoy walked over to the desk, expecting to find an audio manual on Starfleet protocol or an engine schematics dissertation. Instead, he found a scuffed memory tape with a faded label reading, 'Highwayman.'

"What's this?" he asked before popping it into the reader.

"It's a song recorded in the mid-20th century by four of the greatest Earth singers of all time," Kirk said peacefully with his eyes closed. "It was something I brought with me when I first left home for the Academy, and I've kept it through the years. Every time I listen to it, it seems to gain more relevancy."

McCoy made a noise of disbelief. "How can a song written three hundred years ago have relevancy on a starship captain?"

"Because it references one," Kirk said quietly.

That shut Bones up immediately, and the song started.

As the Chief Medical Officer heard the opening guitar strumming out a soothing rhythm, he observed the Captain. His breathing had evened out, and he looked close to falling asleep.

McCoy listened to the words, totally enraptured with the simple, earnest way the singers presented their stories. The lyrics were simple, and spoke of hard existences lived by hard men. By the last verse, he was hanging on every word.

 _I fly a starship, across the universe divine._

 _And when I reach the other side, I'll find a place to rest my spirit if I can_

 _Perhaps I may become a highwayman again_

 _Or I may simply be a single drop of rain, but I will remain_

 _And I'll be back again, and again, and again….._

McCoy looked over to see Jim deeply asleep, looking peaceful for the first time in far too long.

"It's just like the song, Jim," he said lowly, not wanting to wake the Captain. "Find a place to rest your spirit, or start over as something else. Either way, you'll remain. And I feel like the song is right about the last bit too. I have a feeling you'll be back, James T. Kirk. Lord help us, we'll be back," he said, more to himself than anything else.

"Goodnight, Jim," he said quietly, before slipping out of his Captain's quarters for the last time.


End file.
